My Condolences
by massivelyattacked
Summary: After the events of the Deep Roads, Hawke deals with loss by withdrawing from her companions until solace comes from an unexpected conversation.


**_After another playthrough as a mage, I decided to bring along Carver in the Deep Roads, and leave behind Anders, the only person who could help him survive into the rest of the game. Still, I felt a wee bit of guilt for doing so - despite how ANNOYING he had become in previous playthroughs. I felt I had to write a little to clear my name, and thought I'd test the waters with Fenris. This is my first real attempt at writing for him as a rival. Hope it worked..._**

**_Bioware/EA is greater than I, for I own none of this. 'Cept for the guilt, I spose..._**

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><p><strong><em>My Condolences<em>**

Hawke sits alone in her chamber at the edge of her bunk. The fabric she rests on feels tattered and shabby. Still, it is far more than she deserves. Her fingertips linger on its ripples, and she watches as she creates new folds with the pressure of her hands. It has been several days since she returned from the Deep Roads. Alone.

_Carver…you never deserved…_

She falls back on the bunk, extending her arms. Her head falls to the side, and she can see the flames of candles on a table, flickering in the darkness. Her vision becomes glassy as her eyes fill with tears. As they have done countless times since her return from the underground. She wonders how many more tears she has left to shed. But her mind is devoid of an answer.

_Why did I have to bring him? I should have told him to stay with Mother. To protect her. Why?_

Her body begins to shake again. A combination of shivering and hyperventilation takes over her. She rolls to one side, drawing her knees towards her chest. The tears flow freely as she succumbs once more to the growing pain inside. The emptiness in the pit of her stomach eats away at her – has been constantly since the expedition. She cannot help but feel responsible. She was the one person who could have stopped her brother from being there. She could have prevented his death.

A knock on the door interrupts her thoughts. She sits up, wiping away at her eyes with the sleeves of her robe.

"Who is there?" she says quietly.

There is no answer.

She rises to her feet and solemnly makes her way to the chamber door. She rests her hand on the switch and her forehead on the door.

"Who is there?" she repeats.

"Fenris." The reply on the other side of the door is restrained and soft.

She opens the door slowly to face her visitor. His eyes, partially obscured by a wave of white hair, display concern at her condition. She has refused to leave her uncle's home for days – even refused all visitors. Her mother admitted entry to the elf solely based on the fact that she had not spoken to anyone since returning from the Deep Roads. At the very least, Leandra had her own brother to speak with, and despite her grief at the loss of her second child, and only son, was busying herself with obtaining access to the Viscount. Gamlen escorted the woman out shortly after the elf arrived. He was shocked at the gesture by the two humans towards him. She makes no attempt to open the door wide, or move to allow him entry.

"May I…come in?" he asks.

"Oh," she replies, "I…yes, you may." She steps back and pulls the door open. She can see into the main room, noticing it is empty.

"Your mother and uncle have decided to get some air," he says.

"I see…"

She turns to face him in the dim light.

"Did you need something, Fenris?" she asks, pointedly.

He looks at her and shakes his head sadly.

"Hawke, you've been in this room by yourself for a fortnight. It's ridiculous. You need to talk to someone," he says.

"I don't think you know anything about what I need, _elf_," she spits out.

He clenches his fists, but then relaxes them almost as quickly. She sees he has tensed up over her words and lowers herself back on to her bunk.

"I'm…sorry Fenris. I…I didn't mean that…" she stutters.

Her head falls into her hands. The elf removes his blade from his back and rests it against the wall. He lowers on to one knee in front of the grieving woman. He takes both of her hands into one of his, and slowly lifts her chin with the other. She has begun to cry again. He places her hands on his knee and raises his fingers to her face to wipe away some of the tears.

"I suppose that anything I could say would be ineffectual. I don't remember much on my life before – this," he says, referring to the winding fingers of lyrium burned into his skin. "I don't know what I had for a family…if I even have anything of the sort."

She blinks at him. He continues, focused on keeping her eyes locked on his.

"The only thing I know for certain is that you are not to blame."

"I was the one that could have stopped him from coming," she protests.

Fenris shakes his head, chuckling slightly.

"My dear, for all you know of your brother, he would never have been so easily left behind. To be left in your dust? Forever in your shadow as you returned to the surface with gold and jewels and renown? Bah!" he scoffs.

"I could have –," she insists.

"No. If there was anything I understood of your brother, it was that. As much as you were trying to regain your family's standing in Kirkwall, your brother was trying to regain his standing in your family," he says.

"Then I drove him to this!" she exclaims.

"Hawke! That is _not_ what I meant!" he scolds her. "You cannot continue to grasp at pieces of blame to place on yourself."

"I just…I wish…he shouldn't have died down there Fenris. Not like that," she cries out. "He was a good man and he never was able to find his path to tread. The guilt for that will never dissolve."

"Yes, he was a good man," he replies. "But you cannot dwell on the past when you cannot change it. Perhaps this was meant to be…"

"Meant to be? _This_ was meant to be?" she shrieks as she jumps to her feet and retreats from him. "I was meant to be alone?"

He stands and approaches her.

"You are not alone," he says as he takes hold of her shoulders. "I know…I know that is small comfort, but you will never be alone. I am here for you – we are all here."

She looks at him, and the hatred on her face has disappeared.

"But you…" she starts.

"You and I rarely see eye to eye on anything, Hawke. But I can put the contention aside when need be. I'm not a complete ass," he says, loosening his grip on her.

She shakes her head. "I didn't mean…"

"I know you didn't," he replies, "but I realize that you think of me that way sometimes. You _have_ called me an ass once or twice."

A faint shadow of a smile replaces the sorrow on her face.

"I'm sorry, Fenris," she apologizes. "I should never have called you that."

"No, you should have," he says. "I likely deserved it." He smirks and takes one of her hands again. "No matter. I believe I actually got to see a little of the old you for a brief moment there. Is there hope for a full return one day? Will you agree to leave this…horrible place?"

"This horrible place is my home…unfortunately," she says. "At least…until mother can sort out the politics of this city long enough to find us some better real estate."

"Of course, but one step at a time. And getting some air should be first on your agenda," he suggests. "Your companions would do well to see your face again. Merrill has been quite nervous in your absence and as much as it pains me to say it, your friend the mage has been looking like a wounded animal these days."

"Perhaps you're right," she concedes. "But I…I look a mess. I cannot face Kirkwall in this state."

He steps up to her and brushes the hair out of her face. He raises her arm up and uses her robe to dab the dampness off of her face. His fingers trace the outline of her jaw from her neck to her chin.

"There," he says. "Perfect."

"I hardly believe that," she says.

He looks at her seriously. "You are a beautiful woman, Hawke. Perhaps if…"

"Don't say it," she interrupts. He nods. "If you're going to force me out of my home this eve, I suppose I should consider dressing the part. Walking about the streets in my bedclothes is hardly befitting a woman attempting to gain nobility."

He smiles politely. She waits for a moment, but he does not move.

"Perhaps I could be left alone to do so?" she suggests.

"Oh, of course," he stammers. He retrieves his weapon and heads to the door. He pulls the door to almost closed and turns around to give her a last look. She smiles at him and shoos him out of the room. As he closes the door, he thinks on what almost drove him to spill his feelings to this woman. She is everything he despises, but yet he remains inexplicably drawn to her side. As if she is the one mage who could make him understand. Though perhaps they will agree to disagree for now.

He waits silently in the dirty hovel, eyeing the large mabari sleeping in the corner. As its breath sputters, he hears the door to her chamber open and she exits the room. She approaches him and nods.

"I am ready," she says.

"Hawke," he says, "for what it's worth…I'm sorry."

"I know," she replies, with a tiny smile.

He places a hand at her back and follows her out of the house. No further words are spoken. None need to be.


End file.
